


Houndhall

by Cielestine_de_Winter



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Malpractice, Mini Drabble, Pining Derek, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cielestine_de_Winter/pseuds/Cielestine_de_Winter
Summary: When the town is left to burn, the pack decide they need help.   They track down the Stilinski’s who disappeared two years previous.





	Houndhall

Two years. It had taken two years for things to get so bad that the entire town of Beacon Hills was in flames. Derek, Scott, Allison, and Chris stood in numb shock as Parrish’s men stopped even trying to fight the fire.

“We need the Stilinski’s back,” Allison said softly. It was what they all were thinking, but none of them were brave enough to say it aloud.

“We followed them to Louisiana, but didn’t find anything. You’d think a kid like Stiles…” Chris’s voice faded out as Parrish joined them.

“We’re going to let the rain take a crack at it,” Parrish rasped. He had been up, like the rest of them for almost a week straight, surviving on catnaps and coffee. Even with his Hellhound strength, he was tired. “We might as well pack it in for the night. I have some deputies watching the parameter. Those demons won’t be back this close to daylight.”

“We need to find the Stilinskis,” Derek said suddenly. “You have anything that can help us?”

Parrish looked from Derek’s face then back to the burning remains of the town. “I can’t…”

“We’re past that,” Allison said evenly. “We had to evacuate the town. We can’t let these people back to their lives until we figure this out. Stiles can help us.”

“You have his books…” Parrish said looking around. He had allowed them to clean out Stiles’s room of all supernatural references after he and his father disappeared back when he was trying to make order out of the chaos of Sheriff Stilinski’s sudden resignation. With Erika and Boyd feral and Gerard mysteriously dead, the pack needed answers and Stiles’s books were their only hope of getting those answers.

Lydia, being the genus that she was, painstakingly digitized all of Stiles’s hundreds of pages of notes, painfully aware that the real information would have been on his laptop. She tried valiantly to fill the empty role of researcher, but lacked Stiles’s almost autistic attention that let him make those insane intuitive leaps that would usually get them out of the jam they were in.

Not, of course that anyone realized it while Stiles was doing it. He’s obnoxious sense of humor and frantic energy had served as a distraction to his casual brilliance. Like so many things about their missing friend, they sorely missed it when it was gone.

“Its not enough,” Scott said urgently. “We need Stiles and the town needs the Sheriff. Help us find them.”

Parrish rubbed his face in his hand. In the two years, they all had seen a parade of sheriffs take the helm only to be chased out by situations they couldn’t control and couldn’t comprehend. Parrish was basically the last man standing. He even knew better than to take the office. “They left for a reason.”

“They’ll come back if we ask them,” Allison replied. “If they knew what was going on here…”

“They would stay the hell away,” Parrish said sharply.

“No they wouldn’t. Stiles would never leave if he was needed. Neither would the Sheriff. You know that,” Scott took a small step closer to Parrish and waved his hand to the town.

Parrish looked as another building fell to the ground. “Wesson, Arkansas.” Parrish said finally. “I heard the Sheriff is moonlighting as a rent a cop in the Walmart there. I don’t put too much stock in it, but it’s all I know.”

Scott turned on his heel, but was stopped by Allison. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to get my mom and we’re going to Wesson,” Scott answered.

“What if the Sheriff still doesn’t know about… everything?” Chris asked bluntly.

Scott shrugged. “Then I’ll talk to Stiles. Stiles always was the one who wanted to tell his dad. He only didn’t because of me.” He walked quickly away, confident in his best friend.

  
  


Melissa and Scott hung around the dismal Walmart for hours until they caught the sight of a tired, broken down John Stilinski just coming on his shift. His face was lined with wrinkles that aged him horribly in the past two years. He had a face of stoic resignation when he made eye contact with them.

Melissa and Scott rushed to him, catching him in a tight hug. John’s arms hung down awkwardly for a long minute before he tentatively reached up and hugged them with increasing pressure until he was hugging them tightly to him.

After several long minutes, John released Scott and Melissa and stood back, tears running down his face. “How did you find me?” He asked, his voice rusty with emotion.

“Parrish,” Melissa said wiping the tears from her eyes. She hugged him quickly again. “Tell us. Tell us everything.”

John looked around the store at the crowd of people voraciously watching them. There were even a few with their camera phones out videoing the reunion. “I…” he hesitated.

Melissa took his hand and squeezed it. “We can wait. Finish your shift and we’ll talk.”

John suddenly couldn’t remember the reasons why he didn’t reach out to Melissa. She had been a rock after Claudia died.

Hell, John couldn’t remember why he didn’t go to Melissa in the first place.

John shut his eyes and nodded. He pulled out his keys and handed them to her. “1242 North Street, Apt 302. Wait for me there.”

Melissa nodded.

John looked at Scotts anxious face. “It’s good to see you, Scott.”

Scott hugged him again. “Stiles?”

John stiffened. “Not here.” He said stepping away.

Melissa and Scott frowned but nodded. With one last look, they turned and left.

John scrubbed his haggard face and went about his rounds.

  
  


Hours later John knocked on the door to his apartment and was greeted with the delicious smells of Melissa’s cooking and a spotless apartment. He found Melissa and Scott playing cards around his kitchen table. As soon as they saw him, they jumped up and started setting the table. They made awkward small talk as they ate. Finally, Melissa put on the coffee and pulled out a pie.

“What happened?” Scott asked kindly. He loved the sheriff but he was impatient to be reunited with Stiles.

John put his hands on the table. “Stiles…. He’s unwell.”

Scott and Melissa blinked at each other, unsure what to say.

“The last night we were in Beacon Hills, I found him on the side of the road covered in blood. He looked like someone had tortured him. I…”

Scott jumped out of his seat. “I should have been with him. I should have…”

“No, son,” John put his hands flat on the table again. “The doctors think…. They know…. The injuries were intentionally inflicted. He was hurting himself…”

“No, he wasn’t!” Scott’s eyes filled with tears. “He would never…”

“I didn’t want to believe it, Scott,” John said looking at him sadly. “But he was raving. He was going on and on about how he had to return to Beacon Hills. He even tried to run away. And then he started having delusions, thinking werewolves were real!”

Scott jerked away as burnt.

“Son, there was nothing I could do. Doctors said he had schizophrenia with severe paranoid delusions. I had to have him committed.”

Silence felt like a tangible heaviness in the air.

“Stiles’s isn’t sick,” Melissa said reach out and taking John’s hands in hers. “Werewolves are real.”

John looked at her for a minute. “Melissa…”

“I know because my son’s one.” She looked over at Scott and nodded.

John looked over at Scott and watched stone faced as Scott’s features changed before his eyes. Hair sprouted on his face as his body grew in mass. His long pointed teeth were visible beneath this curled lips. His transformation stopped as the fabric of his clothes grew taunt. His features slowly smoothed back, leaving Scott looking at John with nervous eyes.

John slowly turned to Melissa when she squeezed his hand reassuringly. “What have I done?” he asked in a small voice. “What have I done?”

Melissa pulled him into another tight hug. They hugged for a few minutes before John pushed her away. “I need to get my son!”

  
  


It took all of two minutes from the moment they pulled into the parking lot of Houndhall for Melissa to smell a rat. She had worked in a hospital for too long to not recognize the slight nervous tells of the administrator on duty. After 10 minutes of patiently waiting she stood up and calmly informed the nervous woman that they would now be taken to Stiles. She started naming off several health code and HIPAA violations that could easily closed the hospital. The administrator paled and meekly lead then down a hall to a service elevator. They were joined by the head nurse on duty and road the elevator down several floors. The nurse glanced nervously at the administrator, but the administrator has a resigned look of doom that was not reassuring.

When the elevator door opened, Melissa, John, and Scott followed the administrator and the nurse through a few security doors before stopping in front of a heavy metal door. With a tiny breath, the administrator motioned for the nurse to open the door.

The nurse reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside. John walked in first, but froze his shocked horror.

Scott and Melissa eased him aside and and made their way to Stiles’s bedside.

Stiles was strapped to a bed with an IV hanging from his manacled, emaciated arm. A blindfold was held in place was a tight metal cage that forced his mouth closed and head to be kept immobile. Scott put a hand on Stiles’s bare arm, but jerked back at the sheer amount of pain his friend was in. He looked at his mother with tearful eyes and she nodded.

“John and Scott will assist you in preparing Stiles to leave,” Melissa said in her non nonsense voice. She turned to the administrator. “And you and I will go and get a copy of his file.” The administrator and the nurse knew better than to argue at that point. Within a half an hour, they were ready to leave.

  
  


Stiles was completely unresponsive to everything. He was passive to the point where Scott doubted that Stiles was even there. John kept starting at the gaunt dead-eyed version of his son, speechless and horrified. Melissa quickly drove them back to John’s and spent the better part of two hours reviewing Stiles’s file.

Finally Melissa stood and went to John’s bedroom where John and Scott stood watch over Stiles.

Melissa took a breath. “It will take a while for the drugs that they’ve given him to go through his system. As the nurse mentioned, he had a catheter for 18 months. Was restrained with a mouth guard that hasn’t been removed for equally as long.”

John made a noised and clutched Stiles’s limp hand. “Will he be okay?”

“His therapy included a dozen rounds of electroshock treatments interspersed between intense drug therapy,” Melissa finished. She turned to Scott. “He can’t go back to Beacon Hills.”

Scott nodded and let go of Stiles’s hand and left the room. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out his phone.

“How is he?” Derek answered.

“He’s not good.” Scott took a breath. “He’s been…. It’s not.”

“Bring him home. Tonight.”

“Mom says he’s in no shape to go to Beacon Hills.”

“He needs to be around us. We will help him through this.”

“He’s not a wolf.”

“No, but he is pack.” Derek insisted.

Scott’s wolf howled in agreement, but he couldn’t get the image of Stiles’s out of his mind. “Derek…”

“If we need to, we can leave Beacon Hills for a while and regroup somewhere else. We can help him.”

“Let me talk to Stiles’s dad and mom. I’ll text you.”

  
  


“No,” Melissa said shaking her head. “Our hospital system isn’t set up to handle someone whose been through as much trauma as he’s had. He’s had an incredible high dose of hallucinogens while in sensory deprivation. He may never function independently.”

“Then we don’t go back to Beacon Hills.” Scott argued. “We can go to San Francisco and get him through this. All of us.”

Melissa nodded. John didn’t respond.

  
  


After seeing Stiles, Melissa and Scott never planned on going to Beacon Hills. They made arrangements with the pack to meet them at Derek’s home in San Francisco, but John quietly insisted they meet in Beacon Hills. They nervously agreed and drove up to the motel outside of town where the pack had been living.

Scott carried Stiles in and placed him on a bed as Derek, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac stared. Melissa, Chris, and Derek pulled John away to bring him up to speed on everything as the others crawled into bed and started cuddling their unresponsive friend.

Parrish joined then a little later. Beacon Hills had become a hunting ground for every supernatural psycho with bloodlust. The witch coven who had come to Beacon Hills and broken down the protective barrier around the town were quickly killed in a blood feud with a satanic cult who successfully (or unsuccessfully) summoned a demon who just as quickly enslaved them and turned the town into a battleground it currently was. John took it all in and delayed their departure as he asked question after question. They took long breaks as John put everything together in his mind.

  
  


John was staring blankly at his son as he sat between Scott and Erika on the couch facing the tv. Stiles hadn’t responded to anything, his eyes slowly blinking but never focusing. Derek was sleeping alone on the bed. It had been the first time in a week that John had seen Derek sleep and absently wondered if the other man’s sleep was always as troubled. He also wondered if Stiles’s had known how unequivocally Derek was in love with him.

It was blazingly apparent as soon as Derek saw Stiles. He look of raw pain that flashed in the man’s eyes planted the first seed, but as John watched how Derek’s gaze would almost constantly be on Stiles and how Derek studiously avoided touching his son although it was achingly obvious that that was what he most desperately wanted.

John had known that Stiles to some degree had share some of Derek’s fascination. Even before the others told him the full stories, John knew that Stiles had done some pretty insane things for Derek, now it all made sense.

Scott’s friendship with Stiles was strong. They were more brothers than friends. John knew that that friendship would help, but he would bet his life that it was Derek who would pull Stiles through this. He pondered if that was okay and found that he didn’t care. He just wanted his son back.

John stood and walked over to the couch. “Why don’t you both go spend some time with Boyd and Allison? We can watch over him.” He said pointed to Derek who had awaken and was watching them from the bed.

Scott and Erika looked as though they wanted to refuse, but John waited them out. They reluctantly stood up and left leaving Derek and John to stare at each other. When the door locked behind the others Derek’s gaze drifted down to Stiles. John took a breath and stepped away.

Derek walked over slowly, cautiously. He knelt in front of Stiles and ran his hands through Stiles’s thick reddish brown hair. He lifted Stiles’s head until he was looking into Stiles’s eyes. For several long minutes, they were motionless.

Then, Stiles’s eyes blinked slowly and his eyes focused. Derek’s eyes took a red hue as they studied Stiles’s eyes. “Stiles.” Derek said softy.

“You aren’t real. They told me you weren’t real.” Stiles’s whispered voice was rusty from having been unused for so long.

“I am real,” Derek said, emotion choking his voice. “I’m real and I’m here.”

Stiles slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. “Not real.”

Derek pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m here, Stiles. I’m real.”

John fought the tears that were threatening to fall as his guilt stabbed at him.

Stiles shook his head once more then slipped away again, his eyes slowly opening but remained unfocused. Derek crawled on the couch and held him.

  
  


Hours later Derek’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep. He looked around the room and caught sight of John sleeping in a chair not far from him. Frantically he sent out his hearing to find Stiles’s erratic heartbeat but couldn’t. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, looking for him, terrified that Stiles had been able to slip away without him waking up.

John jolted awake. “Where is he?” He demanded.

Derek tore out of the room and pounded on the door to the other room, hoping Stiles was there, but the others groggily shook their heads. Within a few minutes Derek, John, Melissa, Chris, Lydian, Jackson, Allison, Scott, Erika, Boyd, and Isaac were standing outside the motel. The smell of the burning town was so strong that it messed with the were’s sensitive sense of smell. “Where could he have gone?!” John demanded.

“He hasn’t walked in almost two years. He couldn’t have gotten far,” Melissa said looking around as though she expected to see him appear at any moment.

“We shouldn’t have brought him here,” Scott said pacing. Allison put a hand on his shoulder.

“The Nemeton,” Derek said quietly. The other stopped and looked at him in horror. “It would have called to him.”

“What?” John spat.

Derek looked up at John. “Stiles’s is a spark. The tree would have been calling to him for help.” When no one disagreed Derek drew himself up. “Allison, lead your dad, Lydia, and John. Melissa, wait here. Everyone else, come with me.” He quickly stepped off his clothes and flowed into his full wolf form, his feet already flying over the ground. The other wolves quickly transformed and followed him.

“What in the hell is a spark?” John asked.

“He has magic,” Chris said curtly. He followed Allison to their SUV.

“You’re telling me this now?”

“I didn’t know for sure before,” Chris answered as Allison started the car. “The wolves would have had some hint, but they wouldn’t have known for sure.”

“Then how would Derek know?”

“Derek’s his mate,” Allison said briskly.

“Jesus,” John said rubbing his face.

  
  


Derek skidded to a stop when he caught sight of Stiles sitting cross-legged with his back against the stump of the Nemeton. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful, but Derek shot his hand out to catch Scott before the other wolf moved to pass him to get to Derek.

“What?” Scott whined.

“There’s something else here,” Derek said calmly. “Go with the others and circle around, make sure we don’t get trapped here.”

Scott nodded then melted into the trees.

Derek walked carefully up to Stiles.

“The tree is real,” Stiles said without opening his eyes. “I can hear it calling to me. It’s been telling me what’s been going on.” He opened his eyes. “It tells me that you’re real. Are you?”

Derek held out his hand to Stiles and Stiles just stared at it for a few minutes. “I’m real, Stiles. And I will never leave you again.”

“They kept telling me you weren’t real. That you were part of my psychosis. Delusions of a sick mind. Were they right? Am I sick?”

“No, Stiles, you aren’t sick,” Derek said calmly. “You’re hyperactive, have ADHD, and can talk circles around all of us, but you aren’t sick.”

Stiles nodded and closed his eyes. “I killed him. I don’t know how I did it. I just wanted him to stop hurting Erica and Boyd. He was going to keep hurting them until they were dead and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want him to hurt them anymore. I felt to weak and useless. I almost gave up, but I kept thinking you’d come for us. You’d save us. You were like a light in my brain. That light opened something up in my mind. When Gerard started shocking Boyd again, I walked though the door. The next thing I knew he was dead and Erika and Boyd were staring at me. They ran away from me because I killed him. They thought I was going to kill them too. I could have. I could have killed everyone.”

“You didn’t kill them. You saved them. You are right, Gerard would have killed them. But you stopped him. You freed them and helped them survive. After what Gerard did, they were feral. They didn’t know anything but pain so they ran. They weren’t running from you, they were running away from that place.”

Stiles opened his eyes. “That’s what the tree says. But how do I know if any of this is real? How do I know that I’m not still there.” Stiles shivered.

“Take my hand Stiles.” Derek said slowly. “Feel for yourself. I am real. This is real.”

Stiles looked at Derek’s hand for a moment. “What if you’re not?”

Derek crouched down in front of Stiles. “Can you feel me here?” He said touching his chest.

Stiles nodded.

“Then take my hand.”

Stiles reached out hesitantly. His shaking hand traced Derek’s lightly before he drew back. “I want you to be real.”

“I am real, Stiles.”

A sharp howl tore through the stillness of the forest. Stiles looked in the direction of the howl. “That’s Isaac.”

“Yes, and Scott, Boyd, and Erica are with him. We need you to come with us now. It’s not safe here.”

“He’s in danger,” Stiles said softly, still looking into the darkness.

“We are all in danger,” Derek said cautiously.

Stiles nodded and turned back to him. “The tree tells me that I can make it safe again. It says to trust you.”

“Then listen to it. Listen to what’s in here.” Derek tapped his chest again.

“Derek would never say that.”

Despite the tension in the air, Derek snorted. “You have told me I need to be a little more trusting.”

Stiles blinked at him in surprise. “I did say that.”

There was another howl in the darkness.

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek urged. “Take my hand and we’ll go someplace safe.”

“We could stop it,” Stiles said conversationally. “If you helped me. The tree says we can send everyone back.”

“What’s the cost?”

Stiles frowned. “I didn’t think to ask,” he said slowly.

“You never think to ask,” Derek said tightly. He could sense something in the corner of his eye. “Ask and then we’ll decide.”

Stiles nodded and looked around the glade blankly. Derek tensed as another wolf howled urgently.

Stiles eyes flickered to his when he heard the wolf. “Boyd’s injured.”

“Stiles, we should go.”

“No,” Stiles said slowly. “The tree will help us if I went away with it for a while. She says I’m sick and I need help.”

Derek’s breath was stolen. He just got him back and now he’d be taken away again? “Do you want to go away for a little while?” Derek wasn’t enough of an idiot to know the Nemeton’s sense of time was no where near human’s or wolves. The thought of being away from Stiles so soon after his return burned like acid in his stomach. He couldn’t let him go. Not again.

“I’ve only ever wanted to keep you safe,” he said honestly.

Derek fell to his knees in front of Stiles and grabbed onto him tightly. “Then take me with you. Please, Stiles. Let me go with you.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and held him tightly. “Derek,” he soothed. Tiny gold lights started falling around them as they leaned agains the tree holding each other. As the lights fell they grew brighter. From the edges of the clearing, wolves appeared. Their enemies had disintegrated by the gentle rain of light. The acrid smoke of the burning buildings was washed away by a clean, fresh invigorating smell. The bone tired weariness that had been their constant companion had lifted it’s grinding weight. Chris, Lydia, Allison, and John joined them at the edge of the clearing. John’s face had lost it’s careworn resignation making him seem years younger.

When the lights started to dim, they realized that Derek and Stiles had disappeared.

  
  


With the threats all gone, Beacon Hills became a peaceful little town in no time. Sheriff Stilinski returned to his post and until his retirement the most nefarious thing that happened was a shop lifter at the local liquor store.

Years went by and with it weddings, children, graduations, and then more weddings and grandkids. There were also funerals and tears, but for the most part their lives were content and filled with happiness.

  
  


Lydia smiled as she heard the plodding footfalls of the elderly wolf. “Hello, Lydia,” Scott’s voice was a little louder than an old whisper.

“Just us now,” Lydia said with a bittersweet smile. It was a tradition for everyone to come back to the tree on that day to commemorate what happened. But like so many things, as the original pack grew older and their children started having children, passing on the memory of two people who ‘left’ in their 20s grew difficult. As the members of the original pack died, the memory faded into just a story passed down from one generation to another.

Scott sat down on the corner of the blanket Lydia had spread on the ground. His bones ached and he vaguely regretted not bringing a folding chair. Getting up was going to be the worst. “Do you think they’ll come back?” Scott asked again.

“I didn’t scream for them,” Lydia said, again. She didn’t mention the scream that was building in her heart for Scott. She was pretty sure he knew.

“I wish I could see them again,” Scott said wistfully, breaking their annual script. “Stiles, of course. But even Derek. I wish…” Scott was quiet.

Lydia glanced at him and saw, not for the first time, tears in the other’s eyes. The years shared between them created an understanding that didn’t really need words.

Later that night, after her granddaughter made her some tea to sooth her aching throat, Lydia allowed herself a few tears of her own to mark Scott’s passing.

She hoped with everything inside of her that he got his wish.


End file.
